


Final Ending

by snarechan



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Angst, Gen, Goodbyes, Growing Up, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-14
Updated: 2006-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that all my enemies are defeated and the world has been saved, there's but one thing left to do, and that's to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Ending

**Author's Note:**

> After many long, tiring, _laboring_ hours spent on Jak 3 (ok, so it more like 20 or so hours) I've finally defeated it! I could go on about how much I enjoyed the game, much more than the previous two, in fact, but that in itself could take twice as long as this story…so I'll spare you all from my fangirling.
> 
> But I must say, despite everything, there's just one little thing that bothers me, and it concerns Damas' death. It's not that he died per say (though that certainly sucks), but the events during and following the matter that still rub me the wrong way. I was watching the commentary on it and the person talking brought up a good point – sure they had to get right back to the story line, plus a lot was going on and there just wasn't _time_ , but in the end, nothing quite closed about the whole matter.
> 
> So this is to you, Damas, the only king who _I_ think could pull of a double-slitted skirt with as much manly pride as you could.

Well.

It's done.

After all this time, it's hard to come to terms with the fact that another big adventure has come and gone. I can't remember a time where there weren't Lurkers causing havoc across the land, Metal Heads trying to take over the city, or a KG factory pumping out machines bent on destroying anything that breathes. Threats like Gol and Maia, Krew, the Baron, Kor…Erol and the Dark Makers…have all been dealt with, like some distant memory or nightmare that's quickly fading as the morning comes.

A lot's been happening since then. Ashelin and Torn have finally gotten the city into some semblance of order while Samos overlooks everything. Tess and Daxter…erg. Best not to go beyond the realms of just saying they've officially 'hooked up' in every sense of the word (which I'm sure you know is an understatement concerning them). Keira has regained her chance to start working on what she loves again, which is something I'm glad for. Even people like Onin and Jinx have found their niche in the aftermath of things, for wherever a destiny is to be told or something needs blowing up, one of the two is sure to be there.

Over at the wasteland, things are turning out okay, too. Sig has been handling things well, or at least he seems to take right to it. For once, he's the one giving orders, and it suits him. Kleiver…well, he hasn't eaten Veger yet, much to my disappointment at least, but if anything, that's a sign that things are calming back down. I haven't seen Seem around since this all came to a close, but I'm sure she's off doing whatever monks do now that some threat isn't hanging over our heads.

And as for me?

…

A lot of things have changed that are going to have to take some getting used to. Knowing my real name isn't life-altering on its own, but completing a legacy that was in the making and finding out who my real… You'd think that there wouldn't be anything left after you've saved the world (more than once), personally spoken to the gods, and been offered the universe. Going through hell a couple times and back probably has many convinced that my vacation is long overdue.

But I can't rest; not yet. I still have one last thing to do before I can even think about what beach to spend the rest of my life catching rays on, and as I've learned, there's no time like the present.

* * *

Navigating through the Palace ruins the first time had been a challenge, so doing it again is only semi-difficult. The land is mostly lacking enemies by this point, though a few small Metal Heads have taken over the area and made it their life-long mission to make this trip longer than it already is. Nothing a quick drive-by in the Dune Hopper couldn't handle, but it's still annoying to have one of those things pop out of _nowhere_ and smash into the framework. Can't wait till the creeps are extinct, which at the rate I'm running them over, won't be much longer.

Retracing my steps through the rugged terrain is time-consuming. Thankfully, the signs of my last visit are still fresh, the once-glowing control towers still smoldering and sparking as I follow the trail of destruction I left before. The lack of enemy fire and lull in attacks throws me off, though, the sound of the engine the only noise seemingly for miles. The combination of eerie surrealism surrounding the place dragged the minutes it took me to arrive to half an eternity.

It's still just as I left it.

The Slam Dozer is lying dormant at an awkward angle, the sight of such a large, bulking machine tipped over a horrible reminder of the events that caused it. Shrapnel and other bits of debris have punctured the tires and metal underbelly of the machine, grease and other fluids already soaked into the dry ground beneath. From my position, I can't see around to the front, but I can still picture it vividly.

Grabbing the bundle of cloth I'd dumped in the extra seat, I hop out, making my way to the other side and coming up short. No matter how many times I mentally prepare myself and remember the sight, seeing the real thing up close again is worse than any incident I've been through to date. The Baron thought he could torture me, even break me, but this…this was a league outside of anything a human being could do to me.

All that I've done and seen can't stop me from having to look away.

The blast that had overturned the off-road vehicle had mostly struck the back end and then the bottom, but that hadn't stopped it from leaving a mark. Nothing was there to hold us in, the sheer weight of the Slam Dozer was too much and the harsh truth that perhaps our skulls really weren't as hard as we thought they were shattered in an instant. Seeing Damas just… _lying_ there as if asleep is more effective than a slap to the face.

Well…first things first, then.

Letting the blanket slip from my fingers, I approach till I'm alongside the car, testing its weight with a shove of my shoulder. The dune car doesn't so much as creak under my added weight, so I push harder. I manage to dent some of the plating…I think, or maybe it was already there in the first place. Huffing, I give the thing a kick, listening to the dull sound the action brings before deciding what to do next.

If I can't move the thing under my own power now then there isn't much choice but to rely on another source, namely my…darker half. By now you'd think I'd have gotten used to transforming, especially with that new balance I've acquired, but nothing is ever that easy. Now it's like prodding a deadly animal awake with a sharp, pointy stick, and to wake something like _that_ up, you need a really big one.

After everything that I've been through, dredging up the anger and hatred needed to get the energy flowing was a mere memory away.

As soon as my claws shoot out, I dig them deeply into the side of the car, cutting through the steel with no effort to speak of. With a firm grip in place, I crouch, making sure I have the bulk of the vehicle before hurling it up in a diagonal arc over the cliff. It makes a racket all the way down, sliding and crashing into walls before stilling somewhere below to rust away the rest of its existence.

Good riddance.

Repressing the 'beast' takes a lot more effort than calling it out, my consciousness having to shove back the images of pain, revenge, and why I'm here in the first place, as well as getting a hold of some light eco before it gives up. The whole ordeal leaves me panting on the ground for a minute before I regain my senses.

And now comes the hardest part.

Retrieving the discarded blanket, I make to wrap it around his body, minding Damas' head and legs. It's hard getting around them, the lower limbs practically shattered and mangled beyond recognition. The sheet is large enough to cover every inch of him and then some, allowing me to knot it at one end to secure it.

Cradling him, I carry him to my ride, my burden a heavy one.

* * *

It's quiet on my way through the Wasteland.

A storm has been predicted for later today, though right now it's clearer than crystal. The desert sky was sporting a light blue with hints of a darker navy creeping in as the day grows longer. To think, it's taken all day to do everything I've done, yet I'm not even half finished.

I don't stop at Spargus, having a better place in mind as I drive off a little ways facing out from the city. With all my time to think – and believe me, when there's nothing more to fight after years of doing nothing but, there's plenty to think about – I thought pretty long and hard over it. My first choice had been the temple, but transportation and significance aside, it just didn't _feel_ right. That waterfall nearby had been my second, the place a good thinking spot of mine and a peaceful place out in this no-man's land. However, that wouldn't do either.

Stopping before the cliffs outside the city, I take a moment to estimate how long it would take to scale them. The mountain is big enough that it would take at least a minimum of two or three hours to get to the top, yet small enough that I can walk up it if I'm careful. With another body, however, that's a problem. Shaking my head slightly to dismiss the idea of trying to rock-climb at this hour, I decide to take the next approach.

Retrieving the other's body from the passenger seat, I wait till I'm toe-to-rock before closing my eyes, letting the white eco I'd been storing awaken. Unlike my darker half, which is like some feral animal, tapping into my light reserves is as easy as turning on the tap. I can merely think about it to activate it now, the wings unfurling from my back with a sensation of cool ice slithering along my spine.

Unable to truly fly, or at least from the bottom up with Damas in my arms, I can at least sort of glide. Crouching for a small lift-off, I set my foot down on the nearest rock, pushing off it and using the momentum to aid in getting me to the next. By doing this, I'm able to get enough air underneath my wings to jump great distances – I think I'll call this trick air-skipping.

By the time I make it to the top, I've cut my traveling time in half.

Putting a 'cap' back onto my powers, I suddenly feel feverish, the coolness that comes with using white eco usually dropping my body temp and leaving me with a bit of a shock every time I come out of it.

Shrugging it off, I carefully set Damas aside, reaching to the strap on my back to retrieve the gardening tool Samos loaned me. The device was actually created by Keira, I believe, some Swiss-army type of shovel, hoe, pruning and whatever-else plant-handling equipment that she'd given him for Father's Day a long time ago. Pushing the blue button that Samos had indicated as the shovel option, I watch it spring to life, the handle elongating and a half circle curling out at the tip to create a makeshift platform to dig into the earth.

And so I get down to work.

* * *

The sun is starting to set by the time I've settled the last pile of dirt on the grave. I'd never realized just how tall Damas was or how truly brutal working out in the desert is until now.

Driving around in a car is nothing compared to working every muscle in the body, and what respect I had for the ex-King is far greater now in knowing that he and his people had probably done this sort of thing for years to create the city that Spargus is today. I wish I could have been there, or had the heart to ask what it had been like. Had he used his bare hands to carve into the stone? How did he go on after losing so much?

Such knowledge would be good right about now.

Running my arm across my forehead to rid it of all the sweat accumulating there, I glance from the grave to the sky, wondering what to do now. I'd only thought ahead this far.

I suppose I should say something.

Exactly what to say is beyond me, though. When I was younger, I'd not said a word, and now I can't stop. I have all the voice I can muster, to yell at the world or tell people what is on my mind. Right here, in this place, I have quite the predicament - too much to say and not knowing how to say it. A part of me wants to scream to the heavens how unfair all of this is, how we were robbed of our lives together, how little we said to each other…and then the other part wants to tell him how much he inspired me, how much I admire him and still want to make him proud.

Then an idea comes.

"You're a real backseat driver, ya know that?"

The world is silent in response. I'm not daunted, instead a short-lived smile somehow finds its way to my face.

"But I didn't mind. I probably should have, but it was kind of nice."

The irony of the situation hits then. The signs – the likeness in temperament, how we'd acted towards each other, our love for shoulder guards – was _there_. How could we not have seen it; how come we didn't?

"We never knew it and still you acted like the guardian I never had. You lectured me; you were tough and honest, just like I imagined it would be like.

"At least we had each other for a little while, huh?"

The times he'd be waiting there for my return from the desert, how he'd open up to me in the throne room, and knowing he was up in his chair, just watching over me in the arena – those will be some of my best-kept memories. There are so few of them, and so I can't ever forget. I _won't_ forget him or his sacrifices.

Suddenly removing my scarf, I tie the red material around a rock that was conveniently placed at the head of Damas' grave. It isn't much as far as gravestones or markers go, but it will do. The big guy wouldn't have wanted some extravagant funeral with all the dressings anyway. He'd have wanted us all to move on and get back to work.

"I'll miss you…Dad."

And now, it's time to do just that. As I head back to the car, the storm that had been predicted earlier starts to stir, the wind picking up and following me all the way back down.

I don't have to look back to know he was overlooking Spargus and me as I drove off into the fading sunset.

-Fin-


End file.
